


There's A Refuge Somewhere

by spaceCassette



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Try, also im really bad at writing kissing scenes, apocalypse au, apocalypse au literally no one asked for, at all, but they might appear, garbage that i wrote at three in the morning, hasta la later keith, i hate rolo and nyma, if i continue i'll try to do one at one point, im sorry, klance, not sure, oof
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2018-10-08 12:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10386888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceCassette/pseuds/spaceCassette
Summary: Keith and Shiro have been surviving in the aftermath of an apocalypse, hoping they can make it to a rumored safe haven in Canada. Although they don't have much to go on, it's the only chance they've got at a refuge. Everything is going fine until they run into another group of survivors. Now Shiro and Keith have to deal with an obnoxious sharpshooter, an innocent idiot, and a sarcastic little shit of a fourteen-year-old girl, accompanying them on their way to god-knows-where.The title sounds really angsty. Probably because Keith is an angsty piece of garbage in this fic. Nice going, Keith.





	1. It's Always Nice To Meet Some Semi-Sane People

Apocalypse is a strong term. Keith had thought this constantly throughout the past few months spent with Shiro. The main reason he thought this was because he hadn’t even been aware an apocalypse had occurred until a few weeks after the event. 

Shiro had busted through the door to Keith’s old shack and stood there breathlessly for a few moments as a startled Keith stared him down. Those few moments must have lasted an eternity in Shiro’s mind, Keith had thought. Shiro had run to him and practically suffocated him in a hug, which, of course, confused Keith. Shiro understood Keith’s need for personal space, so him breaching it had violated some unsaid rules they shared. After what felt like days of Shiro just staring at Keith and Keith being very confused Shiro had explained. Shiro didn’t use the word apocalypse in his explanation. He probably didn’t want to, Keith had realized that afterward. 

Now, months later, Keith had finally understood the devastation brought on by this apocalypse. Keith, although he had never had one himself, was still bombarded with a feeling of extreme emotion every time he happened upon a family that had withered together. It was something he could deal with, he just didn’t want to. 

“Safe.” A voice echoed from inside the house Keith had been waiting outside of. 

Keith crept in, looking behind him for any other survivors that could be watching. Nothing. 

“Why do I always have to wait outside?” Keith murmured.

“So you don’t die.” Came Shiro from somewhere in the house.

Keith trailed his hand along the hideous beige of the house’s interior walls. The occasional crayon or pencil marks allowing a glimpse into the previous owners past. The wall he trailed his hand along cut off as he approached an open kitchen.

“We need a better system for carrying supplies.” Keith had always felt a little bad about taking things from other people’s houses. Sure, they were hopefully dead and not there to stop them. It wasn’t like they’d be needing the food or water anytime soon. But Keith still felt as if it was like taking bits and pieces of history. Like a reckless archeologist, taking what they can, mucking up the big picture, Keith thought. A cake and a box of kool-aid pouches, showing the preparation for a kids birthday party that was never to be thrown, or a wheelchair and a vase of flowers, history of the old couple that had resided beforehand. 

Shiro had a vast array of foods set out on the kitchen counter, mostly snacks for lunches or large bags of tortilla chips, and was going through the fridge.

“Like what?” Shiro said, clearly more interested in supplies than the means of transporting them at the moment.

Keith hadn’t expected to have to reply. When he took too long to reply, Shiro changed the subject, giving Keith another pointless task.

“How about you go check upstairs for any other supplies.”

Keith didn’t argue he just did as he was told, trudging through the kitchen to find whatever stairs Shiro had been talking about. While walking down another short beige hall he found a small collection of pictures hanging on a wall. One of what looked like the whole family. Parents. Grandparents. Kids. Annoyed teenagers. All with the same light brown skin, excluding a few white splotches that appeared amongst the group. Keith saw another photograph of what looked like a mom and her son. His arm wrapped around her shoulder while she winked at the camera. It seemed nice. All he had ever heard about parents was that you fought with them and when you weren’t fighting they were just boring parents. He liked this family’s rendition better. 

Although he told himself he should quit looking at the photos and get back to the small task at hand, he continued. He glanced over at a picture of a little girl sitting in a sandbox looking up at the camera, a beautifully sculpted sandcastle in front of her. She had the trademark light brown skin and dark walnut hair. He could only wonder what had happened to this once lively family.

He finally found the stairs after a while of gazing at the family photos. Imagining the mom hanging each frozen memory on the wall. It was probably good he didn’t have a family. Or hadn’t. If he did, they’d probably all be dead and he’d be the poor shit stuck mourning them while also trying to survive the empty world they’d been struck with. He believed this even more so as he reached the top of the stairs. 

He headed to the nearest room. Light yellow walls painted the scene. A small twin bed pushed into a corner, covered with one too many penguin plush. Above it hung a solar system model and a few glow-in-the-dark stars. A small cardboard box that had seemingly been used as a nightstand stood astoundingly upright. Littered with broken crayons and a framed picture of the girl from the sandbox photo and the boy from the other. Keith walked over and knelt down to pick it up. The boy, although in this picture he seemed much older, was holding the girl, probably his sister, in his arms while she laughed, shielding her face from the rain. Keith put down the picture.

“You can’t do this for every one of them.” He muttered to himself, setting down the picture.

He felt a piercing gaze behind him and turned in time to see someone who was not Shiro.  
“Get the fuck out of her room.” The person who was not Shiro said.

Keith’s sudden panic had gone away and now he could see who he was looking at. A boy around his age, the same shade of walnut hair as the pictured family, pointing a gun in his direction. Keith’s surprise was obviously taken into account when the boy felt the need to repeat himself.

“I said.” He stared Keith down. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Her. Room.”

“Wait,” Keith spoke as he rose his arms. “I wasn’t- It wasn’t- I just walked in here.” 

Keith almost laughed as he heard the safety switch on the gun turn off. He had a chance and hadn’t taken it.

“I said, get out. My friends have your pals downstairs. If you want him to live, you’ll follow me without further idiotic noises.”

Shiro. Keith thought. He was capable of handling himself. Right? He could take down a pride of lions without getting a scratch, he’d be fine.

“Your friends have another thing coming.” Keith returned the boy’s glare.

The boy seemed to lose in this battle of glares and pinched the bridge of his nose, seeming to calm down.

“Okay. I’m going to be real here. We seem around the same age right? I have never killed anyone unless for survival reasons. You don’t seem insane. I don’t want to kill you. But, if you don’t get out of her room, like, right now, I will fucking slaughter you.” The boy chuckled and his eyes softened when he looked up. It almost did seem insane.

“Fine.” Keith gave in, arms still above his head.

He awkwardly walked forward as the boy stepped back into the hall, almost stumbling down the stairs while trying to not break eye contact with Keith.

About halfway through their awkward journey down the stairs, Keith heard faint mumbling. He was relieved to know it definitely wasn’t Shiro. The boy wasn’t and a look of worry crossed his face. 

The minute Keith could see the kitchen he noted several differences. One being the two people tied up, the other being Shiro’s organized food supply being highly unorganized. A string of curse words emitted from the boy who had been holding a gun towards Keith. He stepped forward and directly faced Shiro. You’re gonna regret that. Keith thought.  
Keith lurched forward from behind the boy, swinging a punch that was somehow dodged. Keith stumbled forward for a moment before turning around to face the smirking boy, who kicked Keith’s legs, sending him to the ground with a quick jolt of pain to the head.

“Okay then.” The boy put a foot on the small of Keith’s back.

“Okay then,” Keith heard Shiro’s voice from across the room.

Using the remaining energy he had in that moment Keith mumbled.

“What the fuck Shiro?” Some help would have been nice while he was getting sent to the ground.

“Shiro?” The boy looked at Shiro, the two of them disregarding Keith’s previous statement.

Shiro nodded a yes. “You?”

“Lance.” The boy addressed himself. A moment of silence passed.

“So, like, what now?” Lance seemed incredibly awkward in this situation.

A voiced peeped up from one of the previously forgotten, and previously gagged, bodies in the room.

“What you fucking idiots do now,” a small cough escaped the voice’s throat, “is trade hostages.”

Keith was still on the floor, but he could tell everyone in the room had swiveled their heads towards the voice. With that perfect opportunity, he grabbed Lance’s ankle and dragged him down to the ground with him.

The voice peeped up again. 

“Well, great fucking job on letting your guard down, Lance. Now we’re fucking screwed.” It was nice to hear some sarcasm after being with mister serious for the past few months even in a situation like this.

“I don’t need your damned commentary Pidge.” Lance yelled back from the floor.

Shiro seemed to materialize out of thin air next to Keith and offered his hand. Keith grabbed it and kicked Lance, who was getting up, back down to the old hardwood ground. 

“The fuck man?” Keith looked at Shiro.   
Although Shiro didn’t answer, he walked over to Lance and offered him a hand. Keith couldn’t fucking believe it. 

“The actual fuck,” Keith stood where he was. “That asshole probably gave me a concussion, and you’re helping him up?”

Keith might have been right about the concussion thing, the whole room had started spinning and details were only grazing his vision.

“The fuck is that you guys are going to act like adults instead of immediately resorting to violence.”

Keith respected Shiro. He’d known him since they met at a foster home and always saw him as a big brother figure. This also meant that Shiro saw Keith as a little brother and never cursed in front of him. Until the beginning of this apocalypse.

“The angsty teenage boy is Keith.” Shiro gestured to Keith for whoever else was in the room to see. Lance was standing up, looking a bit dazed.

“Yah. I’m still gonna call you mullet head.” 

“You never called me that to begin with!” Keith was incredibly annoyed by now.

“Hey, you aren’t the only one with internal narration.” Lance crossed his arms.

Suddenly a voice spoke up from behind Keith, and for lack of better words, startled the shit out of him.

“He said to act like adults, not bickering children.” A short girl walked past Keith and toward Shiro, holding out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Pidge, the only reason these idiots aren’t dead.” Shiro shook her hand.  
“And apparently, the only one here immune to loosely tied rope.”

She jutted her thumb past Keith. “That’s Hunk, he’s our tank, and resident stuffed bear.”

Keith spun around to see an extremely bulky guy, still tied up with a cloth around his mouth.

“And I’m very sorry you had to meet Lance, he’s what you might call our sharpshooter and constant pain in the ass.” Pidge glared at Lance. 

“This, as most of you might say, is the part where we form an alliance. It’s nice to meet some semi-sane people in these parts.”


	2. Update:

I know this fic has been hella dead for almost two years now, but I'm actually going to start working on it again. I don't know when I'll next update as I'm going to try my darndest to imitate my old writing style because it was actually sort of okay and not an on fire garbage can, but it'll probably be within the next week and from then on I'll be updating every Thursday.


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